New Places, New Things, New World
by Laura Owen
Summary: Irvine gets sucked into a different time and place. And the first thing he does is fall in love.
1. A Day

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these people. Irvine belongs to Square, and the young lady in question belongs to Warner. Don't sue me cause, since I am not making money off this, you won't get anything.

**Contact: ** Mail, LiveJournal

**A Day**

by: Laura Owen

Irvine lay on his bed, absently looking through a magazine. With the thick walls of The Park blocking out most of the normal house noises, there was little to distract him and right now, that was fine. But he could feel it coming. In about five minutes he was going to have to get up, put some clothes on and go do _something_. If he didn't, very simply, he would go crazy.

He rolled over and held the magazine up over his head letting the centerfold unfold to his chest. Giving the picture there an appraising glance and finding it lacking, he snapped the pages closed. 

It wasn't like he hadn't done anything all day. She had been so kind since he arrived. She had given him just as much freedom as The Others had even if he wasn't one of The Chosen. Irvine thought that She actually liked him a lot, even if he wasn't like The Others. No, he was very different here. 

He had asked She if he had free reign in The Park. She had told him that he could go anywhere he pleased, but to be sure to knock before going into a room with a card in the slot under the little metal plate in the door.

He had noticed that the slot on his door didn't have anything in it. When he had wondered why, one of The Others told him that he needed to come up with a card for it. 

"How do I do that?" He had asked.

The Other, who turned out to be a rather attractive teenage girl with curly brown hair and brown eyes, had told him to just think one up. The little things, she had explained, were for him to decide. All he had to do was think it up, and he would get it one way or another. 

Irvine had thanked her. Flashed her a smile.

He'd wandered around the house for a while, looking at the cards in the doors. Some of them were very new looking. Others, on the higher floors were yellowing. The little cards came in all shapes and sizes. Some were just a name in black on a white card. Others were very ornately engraved. He could not read a single one. None of the letters made sense. 

Tucked back in a distant corner, he had found a door with about a hundred little cards in a hundred little slots. He had knocked, but never got an answer. 

He didn't want to know what was in there. 

All the cards were crumbling.

Irvine had gone outside after that. He had wandered around a bit. Two of The Others had been making out under the arbor outside The Library. That had made him wonder just how much She knew about what went on at The Park.

That's when it had happened. That is when a very large black Bird had began to circle his head. Before he could react, the Bird had dropped an envelope at his feet. He had opened it. It was from She.

Irvine,

Sorry to keep you waiting. Had a required meeting this morning. Your Range is ready. If there is anything out of order, let me know.

She always was so informal, so thoughtful. When he had looked up, he was at his Range. His Range. None of The Others would have any use for this. None of them knew about guns and ammo. The only one of The Others that he thought would want to see His Range was the blond boy. The one in the room next to his. But that was not a problem.

He had turned in a complete circle and noticed that The Park was visible from His Range. The Park never left sight, actually. He learned that later while he walked along The Pond. But while he had been at His Range, he had noticed movement in one of the second floor windows of The Park. At the other end of the hall from his room.

Movement.

And a pair of brown eyes.

Watching him.

But when he had looked that way, the eyes had vanished. The curtain dropped closed. But he had seen her. He had smiled, then made use of His Range. And all of his upgrades. 

"I'm glad She doesn't know much about my world," he had thought.

When he had gotten bored, he had gone for a walk. Down to The Pond. The Pond was nice, he had guessed. That was when he had noticed that there was no place on The Park Grounds where The Park couldn't be seen. At The Pond, he had been able to see the Back Porch and The Loggia. 

He had also seen a whip of curly brown hair.

He didn't think she had been watching that time.

But the curls were there.

Softened by the sheers on The Loggia doors.

Through the Reading Hall.

To The Library.

To test his theory about The Park being constantly visible, he had walked into The Woods. He had gone for several miles through the tangled brush. Every time he turned, no matter how high the trees, he had always been able to see part of The Park.

Proof in head, he had returned to The Park. He had gone back in through The Hillside. Walking back to his room, he had gone through The Pool, The Birthday Room, and lots of halls with triangular joints in the stone. 

He had seen several of The Others on that walk.

The Others had been really nice. They had all told him something useful, when he had asked.

The Other that told him where The Kitchen was had been an Adult. He had made a note of the wavy black hair and pointed ears. The Adult had been slightly transparent. 

Another Adult, this time a tall, very solid redhead, had pointed him to the quickest way back to The Clutch where he and all The Other kids were.

He didn't know how he felt about being put in The Clutch.

Young as he was, he felt a lot older.

An Adult had passed him on The Stairs. She had been very pretty. Black hair, cut short. She had smiled at him and walked on.

Not as friendly as The Other with brown curls. 

He had gone back to his room and showered. He hadn't bothered to dress. Seemed pointless when he was left alone. He had worked on a door card for a while.

He had thrown away several.

Until he had it perfect.

And he had it perfect.

Simple. 

His Name. His Gun.

Brown paper.

Simple.

He had stretched out on the bed and flipped pages for an hour. None of those girls were like….

What was her name?

He hadn't cared about names since he had gotten to The Park. Now, he cared. But only about hers. What was the name of The Other with brown eyes? How could he find out?

Finally, Irvine got up. He walked to the closet and opened the door. It was empty. He panicked. Turning around, he wondered where he could find something clean. He wondered if he thought about what he wanted to wear it would just appear. 

He tried.

It worked.

The closet filled before his eyes with all kinds of comfortable clothes. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a purple suede vest. Neither felt new. They both felt like he had worn them so many times they were fitted to him.

It felt good.

Really good.

He pulled on a pair of gray socks he found in a drawer. Those were just right too. Nice and loose around his toes. He grabbed his door card and left his room. He wondered if he could redecorate his room by thought. 

He tried it from the hall.

He'd see if it had worked later.

Right now, he was on a mission. He had to know her name. 

But he was hungry too.

Food first. A man cannot live on affection alone, you know.

His feet made quiet patting noises in the empty halls. The Park was so big. He wondered how he didn't get lost. But the trip to The Kitchen was no big deal. At the bottom of The Stairs, there were several Shadows. But there wasn't anyone around. Just Shadows of nothing. He was a little creeped out by them. They just stood, huddled together; their Shadow features all looking up at the Writing Office. Where She always came from.

He hadn't been there yet.

Only The Chosen went there.

Arriving in The Kitchen, he was amused to find no food. No Food. Maybe he just had to think it there.

He tried.

It didn't work.

His stomach growled.

Then he saw it. A small note attached to a butcher block in the center of the room. It was labeled Instructions. He leaned over and read it.

Instructions

To use The Kitchen, open the cabinet that corresponds with your needs. Select a recipe and read the recipe out loud, step by step. When you finish reading, your food will be ready in the oven, refrigerator, microwave, freezer, or countertop.

BE SURE TO SPEAK CLEARLY!

Okay. No problem. He scanned the cabinets and saw that each one carried a tiny engraving that told what it contained. He opened the 'casserole' door and looked through the recipes there. He pulled out one that was labeled Mom's Biscuit Thing. 

Even if it did have 'thing' in the name, he was going to try it. He read off the recipe as clearly as he could and could hear things happening in The Kitchen, even though he couldn't see a thing. When he said, "Bake at three fifty for forty five minutes," something began to smell fantastic.

He looked up from the card and saw a light was on in the oven. A bubbly concoction was sitting on the top rack.

He was impressed. 

He was also no longer alone.

Four of The Others were in the kitchen now. He would have thought that they had just popped out of thin air, but that wasn't it at all. The Others were crowded around the door of The Kitchen, sniffing the air.

He offered them some of Mom's Biscuit Thing and everyone went into raptures. One of The Others, a red-haired boy from The Clutch had told him that the 'mom' was She's mother. She's mother was a wonderful cook. 

When he had asked if all of the recipes were from She, an Adult with long dark hair (he was beginning to notice a trend in hairstyles) and long black robes had told him that more than half of the recipes came from The Others. 

The Adult had named names.

Irvine didn't catch any of them.

They sounded like nonsense.

Another one of The Others in The Kitchen had agreed with the Adult. He was another member of The Clutch with black hair and round glasses. He was one of The Others that he had seen earlier that morning under the arbor.

The Others left. He started putting dishes in the sink and wondering out loud why he couldn't grasp the names of these people.

He heard an amused snort behind him.

He had turned to see the blonde haired boy he that slept next door to him. The boy had told him that he had a Block. When he questioned the boy, The Other just smirked at him and told him that before he could learn names, he would have to find where his Block was. The Other would tell him no more than that. 

Then The Other had left.

He didn't like him at all.

But he wasn't going to think about that. He still had to try to find out what the brown-eyed girl's name was. He had to!

He was becoming obsessed with this name thing.

He left The Kitchen and walked down the hall. He heard snatches of a song coming from somewhere further on. He walked a little farther and the song become clearer. Slow and almost mournful. 

_I've known of_

_ Your secluded nights_

_ I've even seen her_

_ Maybe once or twice_

He approached the room that the song was coming from. The voice was not perfect. But it was nice enough. A little edgy. 

_But this time before you leave my arms_

_ And rush off to her charms_

_ Think it over. Haven't I been good to you?_

_ Think it over. Haven't I been sweet to you?_

It was her. The brown eyed girl. Her back was to him, her arms spread towards the large windows that looked over The Park Grounds. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Lost in her.

_I've tried so hard, to be patient_

_ Hoping you'd stop this infatuation_

_ Each time you are together_

_ I am so afraid I'll be losing you forever_

The brown-eyed girl had turned around on the last line, but her eyes were closed. He was invisible to her. Her hands had gone to her chest, lying flat, fingers framing her neck. He could feel his feet moving silently over the floor as he walked toward her.

_Stop, in the name of love_

_Before you break my heart_

Her arms had come out, pushing something invisible away from her body. He had narrowly missed getting hit. Her eyes, those brown eyes, had stayed closed. As her arms fell to her sides at the end of the song, he was so close to her, he could feel her breath on his skin.

"If someone is treating you like that, I'll kill him," he said as her eyes opened. 

Her mouth opened in a short scream and she took several steps backwards. 

He apologized for scaring her. Just happened by. He didn't move at all, as much as he wanted to. Her cheeks went very red.

The brown-eyed girl stammered when she said that she hadn't known anyone was around. Clearly he had made her nervous. Scared her to death. Made her lower lip tremble.

Damn it all.

She asked him what he was doing here.

He asked where he was.

She told him he was in the Dessert Kitchen.

Two Kitchens, he had wondered.

One for the normal food, one for the sweets.

He loved watching her mouth move. Her lips were just the right color to make them look delicious. He wanted to see how truthful looks could be.

But he didn't.

Hell, he didn't even know he name.

Her name.

He had asked her before he knew what he was saying.

She answered.

He understood her.

He closed the space between them in an instant. He had felt her tense for the briefest instant, as he tasted the soft sweet flavor of caramel.

Lyrics, 'Stop in the name of love,' as performed by Jonelle Mosser, © 1998 MCA Records, Inc. From the Hope Floats Soundtrack.

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	2. Affection and Sleep

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these people. Irvine belongs to Square, and the young lady in question belongs to Warner. Don't sue me cause, since I am not making money off this, you won't get anything.

**Contact: ** Mail, LiveJournal

**Affection and Sleep**

by: Laura Owen

She isn't heavy, even though she always insists that she would break his leg if she sat on it. Her weight on his left leg is more of a pleasant reminder that he had someone that he truly cherished. 

It was like this a lot. She worked on her homework, and he played chair for her. He just watched her for hours on end, as she sat with her chin cradled on her hand, going over reams of paper, flipping pages in bizarre looking books, and occasionally writing something.

Her hair, her beautiful brown curls, fell in unruly tendrils around her face as she worked. When he wanted to see her face, he would tuck them behind her ear. He never got a reaction when he touched her while she was studying.

Just to see what would happen he had once trailed several of the tiny kisses that she loves down her jaw line. Nothing. Not even a twitch.

She was so intense.

The only time she moved while she studied was if he had to get up. He'd stroke her back and say her name. She would stand up, never taking her eyes off what she was doing, and then sit back down in the chair that he moved under her.

He really wondered if she would land on her ass if he didn't put the chair there.

But he was not about to try that.

SO she sat on, studying so hard that she forgot to blink. What she was studying, he was learning too. Simply because, all he had to do for those hours was look at her and read what she was done with. 

It was interesting, to say the least. She was learning magic. But not his kind of magic. This was what he called standard magic. Charms, potions. He could heal, she could too. But her's was different. She had to have more that just a mantra. She had to have a wand. She had to enunciate clearly. No mumbling.

He got the impression that he magic was a lot more useful than his. At least here at The Park.

She sat on, ever vigilant. Sometimes he thought she did it because she was afraid that it would slip out of her head. Other times, he thought it was just her way. Her habit.

But it didn't bother him. With her studying, he had as much freedom as he pleased. 

He rubbed her back, "'Mine."

She stood and he moved the chair under her as she sat back down.

He walked towards The Library doors, then doubled back. He passed her again and leaned down kissing her cheek before he went out the doors on to The Arbor Porch. His boots made dull thumps on the stone of the steps as he walked down.

He thought that he would go to His Range, but was drawn to The Fountains by the sound of laughter. He saw several of the other members of The Clutch flinging water balloons at each other. He leaned up against the low wall and watched for a few minutes. The black haired boy, Harry gave up on trying to hit his girlfriend Ginny. She was just too quick. As a last effort to soak her, he picked her up and tossed her in one of The Fountains. But she got him back. When he extended his hand to help her up, she pulled him in. 

He made a mental note to never underestimate that particular little girl.

He moved on, down the lane covered with shadowy creeping vines with huge, delicate flowers that seemed to change color at whim. After thirty-five steps, he turned right and was on His Range. He went straight to the small cottage and unlocked the door. 

There were plenty of things here that he could just think about and have done, but unlocking doors was not one of them. He carried three small keys on a chain around his neck. One opened the door to his bedroom and any exterior door of The Park. Another was to 'Mine's room. The third was to the door of His Arsenal. 

She had asked him to keep all his weaponry down here. After the sicko blonde, Draco, had gotten his hands on the Exeter and had run loose in The Park with it, She had asked him to keep them all locked up.

He laughed at the memory. She had been so calm as he had taken a sniper shot at him from just outside the Writing Office. She had even giggled when he had hit the little bastard and his arm had nearly come off. He'd wondered if he had killed that ass, he was so still laying in a pool of blood in the foyer.

"No," She had told him. "No one dies here. They just fade away."

He selected a gun and relocked the door behind him. He had learned that he could actually fight things here. All he had to do was think of the creature or person he wanted to battle, and they would appear. He thought now, back to his world. One person he wanted to battle and win.

And he appeared. In all his non-communicative glory. Shaggy brown hair flipping in the light breeze that had picked up. Gunblade hanging at his side.

Fight. One word, one thought and it started. 

He rolled, he dodged, he shot. His opponent had the better weapon, but he had the speed.

Reload. Fire. Hit. Hit. Hit.

When he was hit by the Gunblade, it felt real enough. But there was no blood, no real wound. It slowed him down, but wasn't messy. 

He landed two well-aimed shots; one in his opponents head, the other in his chest. The session ended. The Gunblade faded, it's owner going with it.

He sank to his knees, then lay flat on his stomach in the cool grass. If it wasn't for the lack of wounds, he could have sworn that he was dying. The pain of six very large holes in various areas of his body was tearing him in two. He just stayed still and waited for it to stop. It may take hours, but it would stop.

It just hurt like fuck knows what in the meantime.

He stayed there for a very long time. So long in fact that 'Mine came looking for him. She was the only one who knew where His Range was. Anyone could have found it if they wanted to. But 'Mine had a great view of it from her bedroom windows.

'Mine was worried. Very worried. Her voice shook when she asked him if he was okay.

His "Fine" didn't seem to help though. He was feeling better. He was just stiff. He tried to explain this to her. Tried to explain that the weapons didn't leave real wounds; that it was all not really real, but she wasn't believing him.

Just to prove that he was going to live, he got up.

And fell over again.

His ribs were on fire. His knee felt like it would fall off.

'Mine was really about to go crazy now. She didn't seem to be able to wrap her brain around what he kept telling her. She knelt down next to him and gave him the once-over. 

There was a spark.

She finally understood.

No real damage. Just pain.

She moved and lifted his head into her lap. He closed his eyes and tried to smile. She didn't say anything to him. She just cradled his head and ran her hands over his face. She was so soft. Her fingertips felt like silk as she traced his eyes and the tiny lines around them. 

He'd lost his hat when he fell. It was the first time she'd seen him without it and she was somewhat fascinated with his hair. Her hands played in the shorter layers that framed his face. She pulled them straight, then let them fall back into waves. 

They stayed like that for a long time. Her hands in his hair, his head on her lap. His muscles began to relax and the pain was nearly gone. He was so comfortable. He was falling asleep.

He felt her lips brush across his. That was interesting.

A simple kiss.

Just upside down.

He had to laugh as she sat back up. They had kissed just about every way he could think of. Light pecks. Lingering lip locks. Tongue. No tongue. Little kisses. Big ones. Gross, wet kisses. Dry kisses. He'd nibbled her earlobes. She'd traced the outline of his collarbone with her mouth. The day before, he had surprised her as she walked by a seldom-used hall closet by grabbing her wrist and jerking her inside with him for seven minutes of heaven that lasted half an hour.

But upside down was a new one on him.

And by all appearances, it was new to her too. She was laughing too.

He didn't speak as he got up and tested his knee again. It was fine, just a dull ache now. She offered to put the Exeter away, and he handed over the key. He watched her as she hefted the far too big for her gun and rested it on her shoulder. 

It looked so wrong.

She was so lithe. The Exeter was so bulky. She was so innocent. The Exeter was a machine for killing.

It made him sick to look at that scene.

He turns to get his hat. He can't look at her carrying his gun. It's just wrong.

'Mine comes back and hands him the key. She's locked the door behind her. She's just responsible that way. A cold breeze kicks up suddenly and he realizes how late it is.

She likes cold breezes. Especially just after dark. She had been born in that fall and She was attached to the season. She also liked winter, but never manipulated it like she did that cold, fall breezes. It wasn't unusual for a cold wind to pick up on a night in mid-July.

'Mine had dressed for the cool air. Her black cloak was fastened tightly at her neck and her arms were covered. He did not want her to get sick because of him. But she had been responsible again.

He liked that about her.

He let his hand slid into hers as they walked back to The Park. He held the front door open for her. She had hated that the first few times he did it. Thought he was being a chauvinist. He'd explained that he did things like that so that she wouldn't have to. 

That had really made her mad.

He had rephrased and told her that it wasn't like she couldn't, she just didn't have to. Not with him around.

That had earned him nearly four straight hours of cuddling during the movie of his choice. He had been wondering ever since what he could do to get several more hours.

'Mine told him that dinner had passed him by, but there were leftovers. She had ordered pizza because it was Friday. He thought that She just got better and better and said as much.

"You've still got the Block on her name, don't you?" 'Mine was concerned about all the Blocks he still had. He'd been at The Park a week now, and he couldn't grasp She's name.

He'd heard it a million times. Every person here knew it and used it. He just never could get it. It was like he went deaf when She's name was said.

"Yeah, I guess," was his answer. He was used to the second of silence when She's name was said. It seemed normal to him. He explained this to 'Mine. She seemed to understand.

"You'll hear it eventually." 'Mine was always confident that the little problems would improve.

He really liked that too.

He asked her what she wanted to do for the rest of the evening while he ate. She didn't care. She never really cared much what they did. Lots of nights, they would go laugh at Ginny's brother trying to figure out some new technology. Or they would spend time trying out the sound system in The Telling. 

But tonight he was so tired. It made sense, of course. He was worn out from healing the invisible wounds he had gotten earlier. It showed. 'Mine knew he was nearly dead on his feet.

It was her idea to put him to bed. He laughed. She wondered what was so funny. She was serious. She would go up with him, tuck him in, and read him to sleep.

It was ridiculous. But he agreed.

She waited in his room while he showered, raked a brush through his hair, and pulled on a pair of purple pajama pants. He figured that seeing him naked was not on part of the 'putting him to bed' plan.

'Mine had done a lot by the time he walked back to his room. She had turned the bed down; not even Matron had done that. From somewhere, not his room, she had gotten a thick book. What really surprised him was that she had changed clothes.

'Mine looked like she was planning to stay the night in her blue cotton pajamas. When he asked her, she said she was sleepy too knew she wouldn't have the energy to change when she got back. He promised to fall asleep quickly, like a good boy.

She rolled her eyes at him and told him to get in bed.

He hung his hat on the bedpost and crawled in between the sheets. 'Mine crawled up with him and settled herself right next to him. He snuggled his head into her stomach and threw one arm across her legs.

She would NOT be going back to her own room tonight.

He kept his word, though. When she started reading, his eyes closed. He only heard

The comfort of such a friend at the moment as Colonel Brandon-of such a companion for her mother-how gratefully it was felt! -a companion whose judgment would guide, whose attendance would relieve, and whose friendship might soothe her! As far as the shock of such a summons could be lessened to her, his presence, his manners, his assistance, would lessen it.

He, meanwhile, whatever he might feel, acted with all the firmness of a collected mind, made every necessary arrangement with the utmost dispatch, and calculated with exactness the time which she might look for his return. Not a moment was lost in delay of any kind. The horses arrived even before they were expected, and Colonel Brandon, only pressing her hand with a look of solemnity, and a few words….

He last coherent thought was he hoped that he wasn't too heavy for her to sleep comfortably.

Excerpt from Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen. Bantam Classics edition. Chosen for it's reference to Colonel Brandon who was played by Alan Rickman in the film production by Ang Lee. Alan Rickman will be in the Harry Potter movie as everyone's favorite Potions Master. See, these things make sense, sometimes.

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	3. Beyond Attachment

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these people. Irvine belongs to Square, and the young lady in question belongs to Warner. Don't sue me cause, since I am not making money off this, you won't get anything.

**Contact: ** Mail, LiveJournal

**Beyond Attachment**

by: Laura Owen

Irvine was in that space between waking and sleeping when he first felt it. Something hot pressing against his chest. Unnaturally hot. He started awake reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Heart pounding, he looked down at his chest. He relaxed.

The only thing there was 'Mine's head.

Wait. Her head?

The heat had not retreated when he woke up.

He slid one hand under her rumpled bangs and pressed it to her forehead. It was burning hot. He never claimed to be a medic, but he knew enough to know a fever when he felt it. And this one was bad.

He shifted around, laying her head gently on the pillow that he vacated. He sat, cross-legged on the bed and took stock how sick she was. He didn't want to wake her up because she would just be miserable.

'Mine was one sick girl. Her usually mellow skin was completely white except for bright pink spots on her cheeks. Even her lips were white. He took one of her hands in his and it was clammy and cold. If it hadn't been for the shallow, raspy breaths that were rattling her chest, he would have thought she was dead. 

She was shivering, but her red and white school t-shirt and shorts were soaked with sweat. She tossed around and groaned in her sleep. He tried to pull the covers up over her, but she would just kick them off again.

He wondered what he should do. As far as he knew, there was no doctor at The Park. He could not get She. She had meetings on weekdays and didn't come back to The Park until late in the afternoon. He knew that he had nothing except a razor and a box of condoms in his medicine cabinet.

'Mine was waking up. She was making painful little sounds in her throat and tears were beginning to stream down her face. He was starting to panic. If she woke up and he had no relief for her….

Someone turned a key in the lock on his bedroom door. He turned his head sharply, wondering who the fuck would have a key. The door opened quickly and a small woman in black walked in. She walked briskly to where 'Mine lay now awake and just as miserable as he knew she would be.

She tried to wiggle to ease some of the general discomfort that she was having, but she was too weak. All she could do was lay there and cry as the woman in black leaned over her and talked softly.

He heard the woman say that she was going to try to make 'Mine feel better. But first, 'Mine would have to tell her what was hurting the most. 'Mine managed to say something, and the woman in black understood. She smoothed 'Mine's sweaty hair back off her face and felt of her forehead.

The woman in black nodded and pulled out a wand. She wittered a word and a bottle appeared in her other hand. It was about half full of a gray-green liquid. The woman gave 'Mine a few drops of it and told her that it should start working soon. She sat the bottle on the table by the bed then turned to give him a glare.

"You'll have to make sure she gets her medicine every hour until her fever breaks." 

He just nodded. The woman handed him a piece of paper with the dosage directions on it. She told him that she would have the Potions Master make some more because there was not nearly enough in the little bottle to see 'Mine through the worst of it. With that she left as quickly as she had come.

It took two days for 'Mine's fever to break.

During those two days, he slept very little and ate even less. Ginny had come by just after the woman in black had left. She had told him that she would leave a message for She that 'Mine was sick. He had done as the directions said until a little after dark, when She showed up.

She was really great. Even if She had kicked him out of his own room for several hours with instructions to go sleep somewhere. He had left, but he didn't sleep. He just pulled a chair up against the wall next to his door and waited. 

Little Ginny had gone in at one point carrying a small pile of 'Mine's clothes. She had come back out later with the one's that 'Mine had soaked all to hell in sweat. 

And still, he sat. And he worried.

When She had finally come out, She was irritated to see him in the hall. Well, She acted irritated at least. He could tell She was really impressed that he had stayed up. She'd told him that it was really late and that 'Mine was sleeping. 

He'd crept back in to his dark room and found that she was resting fitfully. He'd curled up next to her, and she relaxed a little. He caught catnaps between the times that he drugged up his girl.

Yep. HIS girl.

As the hours passed, he could feel her getting cooler to his touch. The Potions Master came up with more gray-green stuff and told him that it was working. 

He liked the Potions Master. Even though the older man was a real pain, he liked him anyway.

The next day, 'Mine fell in and out of fitful sleep. When she was awake, she still cried. She was so frustrated by being sick. 

She came back the next night and kicked him out again. By now, he had rings under his eyes and looked like rancid death, warmed over in the microwave. He had taken a shower and changed, but then took up his post outside his bedroom door again.

Everything had been the same as the night before. Ginny brought fresh pajamas for 'Mine and took the old ones away. He'd cat napped all night.

Sometime between five and six, her fever broke and she slipped off into peace again. Her color came back and she snuggled next to him. He had fallen asleep too, and it had been her stirring that woke him up around noon.

She was sitting up in bed, looking really gross. He had told her as much, but she only said that she wanted a bath. He'd gotten up and gone to run the bathwater for her. When he came back, she was making her way across the bedroom very slowly.

He caught her around her waist and steadied her. He got her into the bathroom and asked if she still needed him.

She turned crimson to her hairline and said no.

Nonetheless, he left the door open an inch while he changed the sheets (a simple task involving thinking about having clean, crispy ones.) That done, he checked on 'Mine.

She looked very relaxed in a foam of bubbles.

He told her that he was going to go get her something to eat. She requested something light and not too spicy. He didn't bother to get his hat for the trip to the kitchen. He hadn't worn it in two days anyway.

When he got back to his room a half hour later, she still wasn't out of the tub. He sat the tray carrying her chicken and stars soup down on his desk and walked to the bathroom again.

'Mine was asleep with her head on the back lip of the tub. The bubbles were all but gone and the water was cold.

He kissed her forehead and told her she was turning into a raisin. She woke up and he pulled the plug on the tub.

He'd never seen anybody so embarrassed before.

She told him, yelling as much as a raw throat would allow, to get the hell out. First foul word he had heard from her ever. He left, stifling a laugh.

Her modesty amused him immensely.

Especially since she spent six out of seven nights a week in bed with him. He smirked, thinking about how they had never managed to do much more than kiss- a LOT.

If anything more ever happened, it would be her call though.

He was content with her just being there.

She stumbled out of the bathroom wearing one of his shirts. But he had never seen it before. It had to be his, though. It had the SeeD logo on the front. 

He asked her where she found it as he put her back in bed and handed her the bowl of soup. 

"Conjured something that you might wear." Simple enough reply. It satisfied him. 

But that shirt was huge. It hung to her knees.

She told him that was the good thing about Conjuring things. She could control the size.

'Mine ate slowly. Her hair kept trying to fall into the bowl, so he sat down behind her and braided her hair as neatly as he could. As he pulled the band out of his hair to wrap it around the end of hers, she commented on the unusual talent.

"Just something I picked up in school." Who he had picked it up from, he would never tell. He was not about to tell her any more about all the girls in his past. She already knew too much.

She didn't ask who. She didn't want to know. She didn't care.

'Mine finished half the bowl of soup and claimed she was full. He helped her snuggle into the sheets and pulled the coarse, woven blanket up to her neck. He planted a kiss on her forehead and clicked off the light next to her head. He jammed his hat on his head and went for a walk. 

The sky outside the doors in the Reading Hall was tinged with dark red. He stood there for a long time, just staring at the dying rays of light through the sheers on the glass. He was so tired, but he was restless. Something was nagging at the back of his mind.

He shoved it back every time it tried to be heard. To kill a few more hours, he decided to count bedrooms. He walked to the basement to start.

Seven behind The Pool.

Ten more between The Pool and The Store Rooms.

None on the First Floor.

Four residents rooms on the Second Floor.

She's suite that had two more. (What did she use the second one for, anyway?)

Seven more tucked away in shadowy corners of the Second Floor.

Up the stairs to The Clutch where there were six rooms on two floors.

Off the second floor of The Clutch, (technically the Fourth Floor of The Park) there were twelve more.

AND several little window alcoves that would be perfect for romantic moments away from the rest of the house.

Back down a short flight of stairs and there were four more resident rooms, just over She's suite.

And once again, in shadowy corners, there were six more.

Back up, and there were fifteen more.

Did this place ever end?

"Yes." She had managed to find him, in the middle of the night, in a seemingly unused part of The Park.

It ends at a wall right ahead, She had pointed out. And he had missed a few rooms along the way. He'd only found 46 of the 100 residents rooms. Most were vacant, She said.

She didn't ask him what he was doing there. No one ever asked him why he was anywhere. It was like they already knew. She patted his back and told him to go to bed.

But he couldn't sleep.

You will when you get back, She told him. And then she turned and walked back towards the Writing Office. 

As he wound his way back down stairs, around halls, and through public rooms he marveled at how natural She always looked here.

In the middle of elegance that made him feel like a bull in a fucking china shop. In the middle of more rampant spending of money than he had ever dreamed of. Where the God forsaken ridge of the roof was decorated with She's initials in solid gold and the walls of every room were hung with silk. She, in her t-shirts, jeans, and socks with the little pink seams, looked like She belonged.

She radiated elegance that rivaled The Park. And She never stayed a night here.

He got back to his room and changed in the dark. He checked on 'Mine before he got into bed next to her. She was sleeping like a baby, only a few wheezes lingering with her stuffy nose. He accidentally woke her up when he bent down to press a kiss on her cheek.

She made a tiny confused noise as she sat up and squinted at him. He shushed her and in a moment of sudden clarity, he took off his hat and situated it on her head. She smiled weakly and laid back down, hat and all.

As she curled around him, only one word flashed through his mind, making him feel considerable better.

Written to make me feel better because I am very sick with a nasty cold. 

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	4. reasoning

I would like to make it known at this time, that due to the removal of a particular rating of story, this line will be discontinued. No more of my fiction of any nature will be housed at fanfiction.net. if you would like to continue reading any of my stories, they are located at my site.


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